Chow Down: Leave Room For Dessert!
by BritLuvr
Summary: A new ice cream parlor has opened down in Denton, and Columbia is determined to go! But will Frank's snarkiness ruin her plans? Rated T for safety! Please R&R! "CHOW DOWN!" NOW A SERIES, GO CHECK OUT "MORE CHEESE, PLEASE!"!
1. Big Girls Don't Cry, Right?

_**Chow Down!: Leave Room For Dessert!**_

Columbia bounced happily on her heels, thrilled to death at the steady _clack-clack-clack_ing the taps produced. She was in an absolutely fabulous mood that had nothing at all to do with Frankie's latest break-through. Oh, sure, figuring out how the brain would work was all fine and dandy, but really it was of no consequence to the ex-groupie. New tap shoes meant something to her; having to re-dye her hair meant something to her; hell, a new rock album still meant something to her; but the mechanisms employed to bring Frank's creature to life didn't get goose-eggs in her eyes.

A new ice cream parlor opening in Denton, on the other hand, meant quite a bit to her. It meant a night out, a chance to sneak a peek at the new music scene, and—most importantly—it meant she could get her favorite frozen treat whenever she felt a craving for it! Denton was a poser of a hipster town: Up until now, it had hosted only frozen yogurt stores, which had none of the fatty cream and real sugar the petite red-head pined for. _Fro-Zen_, the new store, had opened just last week, and Columbia was absolutely determined to zip down for a taste, just as soon as Frankie was done.

If there was one thing Columbia regretted as an attractive 23 year-old woman with a rich and fulfilling career as a groupie and now lab assistant to the most brilliant scientist in the universe, it was never getting her driver's license. Going to _Fro-Zen_ without a ride was difficult, but not impossible…provided that she could sweet-talk Frankie into it, as she was fairly certain she and her feminine wiles could.

Frank squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth, annoyed beyond belief. The tapper's exuberant spirit usually thrilled him—or made him horny, whichever came first, and horny often did—but today, it was nothing short of exasperating. That infernal noise was simply galling, grating on Frank's ears the way it was, and as if to put the icing on the cake, she had started to hum some repetitive rock song she had no-doubt heard on the radio earlier that week (probably sometime before Magenta "accidently" flung it down the stairs). Knowing there was no other way around it, Frank took a deep, calming breath to steel himself for the task ahead, then turned his attention on to his number-one fan.

"Columbia, darling," he called, his tone so sweet it nearly gave the nearby Riff Raff diabetes.

"Yes, Frankie?"

"What on _earth_ do you think you're doing?" Riff glanced briefly up, annoyed that Frank's mind appeared to be—once again!—devoted to his libido…only to look quickly back down again. Columbia was unfortunate in that she could see only the Master's backside: From the front, he looked like a volcano ready to blow.

"I dunno, Frankie…why?"

"'Why?'" Frankie spun around to face the girl, repeating the word venomously. "'_Why?' _Columbia, my _pet_, in the event that you have not noticed, we are in the middle of a very delicate procedure!" The girl turned pale and stopped bouncing, all excitement dead in the face of Frank's verbal Blitz Krieg. "You are best served either being quiet or leaving, before I decided to use _your_ brain as a test subject, instead of that buffoon's!"

The girl stood for a few seconds, torn between apology and defiance, then finally crumpled and went racing from the room, her falling tears the only proof that she had been there at all. Frank turned calmly back to the procedure at hand, and Riff continued cautiously, not wishing to upset his master as the girl had done. The procedure was a success, prompting Frank to feel more forgiving in its aftermath. Columbia probably hadn't meant to irritate him, after all, and besides, there was a familiar pressure in his groin, one which he dearly hoped the girl would feel up to relieving. For all the success he celebrated in the brain transplant, he was shockingly unsuccessful in wooing the girl back over.

He almost turned back when he got to the room, of course: There he was, looking decadent and undeniable in freshly re-applied makeup and new lingerie, a bottle of Transylvanian wine in one hand and two wine-glasses in the other, only to be met just outside of the door to the girls' bedroom by the sappy strings of a broken-hearted love song played by some meaningless rock-n-roll band. He stopped, reassessing the situation; this sort of music meant an apology and a glass of wine wouldn't heal the wound. Oh no, he would have his relief only after sharing "feelings" and much ego-petting to get the girl to come back around. Still, as the pressure from below the belt reminded him, he needed the relief…and it was such a _small_ offense, really, that it wouldn't take too terribly long before they were climbing under the sheets for a round or two of Frank's favorite game.

He knocked on the door with renewed confidence in his charm, a smoldering smirk already in place to dazzle the girl when she opened it, teary-eyed but otherwise fine, only to find his preparations done in vain as Magenta opened the door, angry scowl in place.

"Go avay," she snapped, moving to shut the door in her Master's face. His hand caught the end of it in the nick of time, pulling it back open. Magenta moved so her full figure covered the doorway, effectively blocking the room from view. Frank pouted, knowing he would have to contend with the pissed-off domestic now.

"I want to speak to Columbia," he sniffed, conveying in his tone his opinion of the woman's actions.

Magenta lips turned upward in a cruel, satisfied smile. "She doesn't vant to see you."

Frank sighed and rolled his eyes, recognizing this game. It was always a power-struggle between the maid and him; ever since she had discovered what a beguiling little pawn Columbia could be, she had gone out of her way to be nice to the Earthling. Well, usually she went out of her way to be nice…there were incidents, such as the radio-flinging of earlier that week, in which Magenta's disdain for the girl occasionally raised its bitter head.

"Of course she does," he clucked, casting his eyes heavenward before setting them back down on his servant. "She always wants to see me."

"Not this time," the woman taunted, delighting in her small victory over her idiotic master.

"'Genta?" called a miserable voice from inside the room. "Who's there with ya', 'Genta?"

Magenta looked over her shoulder at the speaker, still managing to block Frank's view perfectly, as if she had practiced the maneuver…which, knowing Magenta like he did, Frank wouldn't put past her.

"It's Frank Furter," she replied simply. And, already knowing the answer, she added, "Vould you like to see him?"

"NO!" called the voice, followed by a hysterical fit of reinvigorated sobs.

"Sorry," the Transylvanian lied, smiling like a shark once more before slamming the door shut. He heard a definite click, signaling that the door had been locked, and the sobs continued and rose to a wailing crescendo before he finally left, furious and not just a little confused. He had been denied, _denied!, _by his well-trained groupie for doing little more to her than he did every day anyway. What had gotten into that girl's head?

At the end of the hallway, lounging about near the elevator, was a very smug looking Riff Raff. Frank needed little more than to simply see the triumphant smirk playing across the handyman's features before he straighten himself up, suddenly livid with the girl, and the maid, and the handyman. The whole lot of them could just go rot! Snarling, he activated the elevator, waiting as it rose through the floor to meet him. He stepped in, whirled around, and glared daggers into the self-satisfied visage of the hunch-backed man before him.

"What are _you_ so happy about?" he snarled, flinging the elevator into reverse and descending into his room, the sound of contented chuckling floating down to prick his ears from above.

_A/N: Oh, I'm so embarrassed! :"O Somehow, my first chapter didn't make it online...it's nothing new, but it really should be here... Hee~! :3 Anyway, thansk for the reads! Oh, and please me a review if you read this little bit of fluff... I'm looking for new food! The gang's crazy adventures shouldn't be limited to just ice cream and pizza! Send in your favorite foods via review and I'll see it if sparks my creative juices! Much love~! TTFN, ~BritLuvr~_


	2. Out of Sight, Still in Mind!

_A/N: So, yeah. What was meant to be a one-shot-wonder suddenly acquired chapters and depth...and all because Frank can't keep his big mouth shut! XD Enjoy...  
>And if anyone's wondering, the answer is yes: Frank is only in this for the sake of his libido, which is probably why the girls' have a lock on their door. Brava, Columbia, for making good use of that lock!<em>

_**Chow Down!: Leave Room For Dessert!**_

For the rest of the week, Columbia was nowhere to be seen…but everywhere to be heard. Anywhere in the castle one went, proof could be heard of her continued existence. Be it wailing sobs or wailing guitars, Columbia made herself audible every second of every day, and there seemed to be no end in sight for this temper tantrum.

Frank had tried everything he could think of to entice her back to him: He had tried her bedroom (again), written her notes apologizing for yelling at her, tried her bedroom, invited her to dine with him in private, tried her bedroom, left gifts outside of her door, offered to take a break from working on Rocky to give her some "alone time", tried her bedroom, and oh, yes, he had even tried her bedroom…but time after time after exhausting time, he was denied and sent away. What a selfish girl she was being, locked up in her pity and not even thinking of his needs! The ache in his groin was growing more and more persistent, and there was no way to take care of it without her; Magenta was content to watch him squirm, and he would never stoop so low as to seduce Riff Raff. She had him in a real bind, the little minx! He was almost proud of her latest display of sexual fortitude and growing backbone…_almost_. Were it not aimed at him, he would have been extremely pleased.

It didn't occur to him, until one night during dinner when her howls were especially offensive, that something entirely else might be the matter.

"Good Lord, will she never be quiet again?" he whined, slapping his fork back down on the table. Ever attentive, Riff Raff and Magenta stood to either side of their Master, the sounds of Columbia's continuing misery music to their ears, so long as it displeased him. The siblings shared a secret smile: _They_ knew what was wrong, even made attempts to comfort the girl nightly—her pain was good for them now, but soon, they knew, it would begin to fray their nerves.

"I think you are, perhaps, going about this all wrong…Master," Riff intoned, barely holding back a superior smirk. It wouldn't do to have Frank in a foul mood now; he may very well whip his servant out of existence. The transvestite stiffened, offended.

"What do you mean by that?" he demanded, tone quiet and clipped and dangerous to anyone who knew him.

"Merely that you are apologizing for all the wrong reasons," Riff replied airily, indulging in another secret smile with his sister.

Magenta, seeing that her "brilliant" master was lost, quickly lost her temper, shouting in her most enraged tone, "YOU KILLED HER BOYFRIEND, YOU _IDIOT!_"

Frank looked quite taken aback by the notion. "'Killed her…'? Oh, you mean Eddie?" He was quiet for a moment, thinking it over. Yes, that made quite a bit more sense…though how his delightful little groupie could ever have slept with that dolt was beyond him. "Yes, I suppose I did, didn't I? Well, I'll simply have to make it up to her."

And that was that.


	3. It's Not Gonna Work

_A/N: Fair warning, this one is shorter than the others! How **does **Frank expect to get any wooing done when his libido keeps getting in the way? ;3_

_**Chow Down!: Leave Room For Dessert!**_

It was infuriating to find that, even upon discovering the source of Columbia's anguish, he still was not permitted entry.

"But Columbia, pet—"

"I don't wanna hear it, Frankie! Just go away!"

"Oh, baby, I finally figured out what's had you so down."

A pause, followed by a sniffle. "Ya' did?"

Victory was sweet, and Frank smirked to hear it, somehow keeping his tone apologetic and "sincere". "Yes. Oh, poor thing! But don't worry, I have the _perfect_ way to make it up to you…."

Another pause, and Frank got worried. There shouldn't have been another pause there. That's where she was supposed to fling open the door and start crying, holding him desperately close. Could it be he could no longer predict his tap dancing lover as well as he thought he could?

"Does it involve sex?" Her tone was mildly suspicious and accusatory.

A satisfied smile melted over Frank's features, and that victorious feeling crashed over him again, culminating once more in his groin.

"As a matter of fact…."

"Oh, Frankie!" The cry was full of despair. "How could ya'?" And the wailing began again, at full volume, and so lustily that Frank was forced to take cover down the hall, cursing as he fled. That was supposed to work! He supposed to be in her bedroom right now, rocking her and murmuring sweet nothings as if he truly cared! From behind him there sounded a chuckle, so full of contempt and haughtiness and he had no doubts as to who it belonged to. The woman brushed by him, smiling.

"Oh, so sorry…did zat not vork out the vay you vanted?" she called over her shoulder, voice full of mock-pity. She rapped twice on the door, sharply, which—to Frank's amazement—opened for her. "Ta-ta!"

Seething now, Frank returned to his cold dinner, flinging the plate at Riff with instructions to heat it up. He could have sworn he saw the man grin as exited the room.


	4. Frayed Nerves and Tired Groupies

**A/N: Yay! Fixed the link! :) Enjoy guys!**

**_Chow Down!: Leave Room for Dessert!_**

Frank's nerves were entirely frayed the week when he entered the lab. A whole week of pressure from below and no one relief his tension but himself…it was a horrible, a living nightmare! He knew he couldn't take much more of this and was really beginning to get desperate when he spied her sitting glumly on a wooden stool near the diagram-covered table, staring silently at the hard-at-work Riff Raff.

"Riff, where'd 'Genta go?"

"I don't know," he replied, forcing the words from between his gritted teeth. "She simply asked me to keep an eye on you and keep you away from—"

"Oh, Columbia, _darling!"_

"—Frank," he finished lamely, defeated. The cross-dressing doctor sauntered over to the table, trapping Columbia in her seat by blocking her most immediate exit. If she wanted out, she'd have to climb over the rickety table. Columbia's wide, moist eyes fixed themselves on his face, and her cheeks lost what little color they had left. She was a wreck: Runny makeup stained her face, but only barely, having apparently been scrubbed off so that all that remained were the dim shadows of the brightly colored resin; her hair, though still a perky red, looked like it hadn't been washed, combed, or styled for a week; there were bags under her eyes from lack of sleep, and she shaking in a way that had nothing to do with fear or depression. Frank was a little disgusted, truth be told, but he knew if he could just win the girl's favor, cleaning her up would be breezy…and getting her dirty in a more delightful way would be just as easy.

"I've been _so _horrible to you, pet," he simpered, coming in close and bursting the girl's personal space bubble. He wrapped his strong arms around her shoulders and pulled her up so their cheeks were touching, rubbing against each other as he made his petty apologies. "You're quite right to be upset, my dear, but please, give me a chance to make it up to you!"

Riff noticed the very out-of-character way Frank was acting, but didn't say a word. He didn't need a beating, not when today was going so well. In spite of the brat, he had gotten quite a bit accomplished, and he had a feeling that she would be left to her own devices tonight…his sister was always quite proud of her brother's accomplishments, and pride was soon turned into a much more satisfactory emotion in this particular household.

Columbia, by contrast, appeared innocently unaware of Frank's atypical behavior, choosing instead—as she often did—to see him as being truly changed, truly hurt and apologetic.

"Okay, Frankie," she whispered, too worn out to fight him or be upset. He pulled back, surprised to find himself genuinely concerned by the girl's lack of energy. She looked up into his eyes, her own droopy with the exhaustion that comes from complete emotional release. "Whad ya' have in mind?"

Her voice…! Oh Lord, Frank knew she was truly out of it from the sound of her voice! She had actually let it slip back down into her natural range instead of pushing it up the octave. He shuddered a bit to himself, then pulled the groupie up to her tap shoe-less feet and began to lead her away.

"Don't worry about that, baby. Let's just get you cleaned up and rested, hmm? We'll discuss it all later." And gently, he pushed the girl into the elevator and waited for her to rise out of sight.

"You have no idea what to do, do you, Master?" Frank spun sharply, looking at his servant suspiciously. The man looked tired—perhaps all this fighting had been wearing down on him as well. Deciding it probably couldn't hurt, Frank went for total honesty.

"None whatsoever."


	5. Back Again, Newly MadeOver

_A/N: So I just realized, Collie and Harley (Quinn) are the same person! *gasp!* A discovery like this deserves a fitting makeover! Collie's new look is courtesy of my favorite little Maid of Mayhem~! EDIT: Fixed-up her makeover just a smidge...I have to re-align this story so it fits the continuity of the series (I'm working on prequel), so there are minor edits here and there. Edit marks will be posted on edited chapters, I promise!_

_**Chow Down!: Leave Room For Dessert!**_

_This fight cannot go on; it is wearing us all out. The girl wants "ice cream" from the new "ice cream parlor" in town. Take her there and end all this damn suffering!  
>~M.<em>

Frank didn't need to be told twice. Holding the note in one hand, he lit the cigarette between his teeth, then dangled the almost-offensive parchment over the lighter until it, too, caught fire. He unceremoniously dumped the now-burning note into the trashcan beside his vanity, took a deep drag of the calming smoke, and continued to fix his makeup for the evening. He had no idea what this "ice cream" was, but if it came with its own parlor, he ought to look his best.

Besides which, there was the girl left to be wooed, and looking one's best never hurt in that area. She had sounded much better that morning, gaily singing the chorus of a much more upbeat rock song when he rapped on the door and informed her he was taking her out tonight. He just hoped she looked half as good: The Columbia he had seen the other day was a monstrosity, and he would _not_ be seen with it! Er…her. Whichever.

By the time his preparations were finished—and he looked to _die_ for, thankyouverymuch!—it was getting on in the evening. Having no idea what time an "ice cream parlor" might close, he made his way downstairs, only to be met by a most welcoming and delicious sight in the front hall. There she was, his little Columbia, the one he wanted so very, _very_ badly: Hair not yet re-dyed to its healthy blood-red and turning strawberry pink as a result, but legs waxed and eyebrows re-stenciled, fresh turquoise socks peaking out from the shined black tap shoes. Her skirt was silver and sequined and swished sweetly just above her kneecaps, and her favorite multi-colored corset twinkled merrily in Frank's ravenous eyes. Her hair was styled differently, since it hadn't been cut in some time, but he didn't entirely disagree with it: It had been pulled up into tiny pigtails, each with a silver sequined bow resting above it. With her colorful makeup and born-again smile, she looked like a new girl.

She danced around in front of the door, a bright spirit once more. Glancing up, she spied Frankie, and her melted: He was gorgeous, his makeup done in gentler, softer colors that brought out his sensuality so well that she was pretty sure her legs would give out on her. His lingerie was satiny-purple and clung very nicely to his strong frame, and after a week of not seeing him—and, consequently, not getting any—Columbia considered asking him to stay in and make it up to her _another_ way…but Genta's words from earlier still buzzed around in her head.

_"You can't go easy on him," she said, her accent so thick Columbia almost lost the meaning of the few words. The straightener sizzled as it passed back over Columbia's hair. "You have to make him apologize, or he'll just do it again." Some part of her said 'Genta just wanted to take revenge on Frankie and she was the tool to do it with, but another part of her chided this part. It said 'Genta was her friend, just giving her some friendly advice, and she should take it._

"Ready ta' go, Frankie?" she asked, playing nervously with the hem of her skirt. Frank's grin had her swooning as he picked up the keys.

"Let's go, baby."


	6. FroZen Yumminess

_A/N: Anyone here ever read Pika-la-Cyynique's "Girls Next Door" comic series? I highly recommend it, good work, very solid. :3 Anyway, I knew I wanted a waitress just like her OC Cheryl, only, y'know, totally different. So I used my co-author (if you haven't read my joint-project "Behind the Mask", go read eet now!) as a model, and the cutesy little ice cream employee found here was born. Much love~! Cyber hugs to anyone who gets the sherbet joke before it's explained! EDIT: Added some new stuff for the fixed continuity. Also, though it's not stated here, ice cream girl has a name...Riley Camp! Look for her later!_

_**Chow Down!: Leave Room For Dessert!**_

_Fro-Zen_ was oddly empty for seven-thirty in the evening, and the lack of customers made Frank apprehensive. Was this "ice cream" of Columbia's really all that good if only ten or so people were currently in the shop buying it? Oh, sure, he had appreciated the attention from the moment he walked in, subtly following Columbia. The initial "oohs" and "aahs" of appreciation fro her shiny attire soon gave way to gasps and shocked whispers as Frank sauntered in. Columbia giggled to hear it, stopping to turn around and hook her arm with Frank's. Identified as a pair now, the two strolled in and took a look at the cheerfully colored menu above.

Frank was immediately entranced by the many colors behind the oddly chilled glass, each with a tiny plaque that displayed an odd name, like "Rainbow Glitter" and "Coral Burst". He stared for a bit at the one labeled "Rainbow Glitter", temporarily transfixed by the colorful swirls. Columbia followed his gaze and giggled, leaning into him a little.

"That's rainbow sherbet," she explained, pointing to it. "It's like a giant fruit smoothie, and it looks like theirs comes with sparkly sprinkles!" Frank smirked, enjoying the irony of the moment even if Columbia was too absorbed with making her decision to catch it. He was attracted to the colorful fruity flavor, hardy-har-har.

A teenaged girl nervously approached the pair, her white t-shirt covered by an apron displaying the _Fro-Zen_ logo. Her long brown hair, thrown into a messy ponytail, was partially obscured by a baseball cap with the same logo. She was toying with the very tip of the ponytail, wrapping it around her fingers and unwrapping it, only to wrap it again. She cleared her throat meekly and looked helplessly from the smirking—and smoldering hot—man in drag to his shiny young and oddly familiar companion.

"Would you like to try one?" she asked uncertainly, timidly biting her lip. "I just opened a new case of Rocky Road."

Frank's smirk grew wider. _God, _he wanted to taste Rocky…Road. Beside him, Columbia's eyes welled up with tears, and he thought for sure he'd have to apologize to her yet again, this time for _thinking_ the wrong thing instead of saying it.

Her throat tightened, and she nodded her head quickly.

"Yeah, can we both try some Rocky Road?" she asked. Rocky Road…it was a fitting first flavor for Frankie and her, she thought. After all, the two of them had finished going down one very rocky road together; they had arrived on stable ground only a few hours ago, and she was thankful enough to try the ice cream as a silent thank you to whatever power had brought them back together, even if it did have more nuts than she liked.

The girl looked at her curiously, clearly seeing that she was on the verge of crying, but bent down with the sample spoons to give the odd couple a taste. As she handed the spoons over, the teenager quietly reconsidered her choice in employment opportunities. Sure, a small town like Denton had some pretty shit choices, but they were still choices…the store had been opened barely a week, with her working there from Day One, and already she had seen some pretty wacky things. But a guy in woman's clothing who did his makeup better than she could and a girl getting all choked-up over a taste of Rocky Road? The gas station didn't get _half_ the weirdos she had seen already. Besides which, the shiny girl in front of her looked sort of…familiar: Maybe she had delivered pizza to her while working at Pizze Bronzato? God, what a horrible gig _that _had been! She could still remember her last few deliveries; four prank orders, Motor Bike and his giggly girlfriend, and one last beyond-not-funny prank by Motor Bike after his girlfriend had up and split. The girl behind the counter was still mulling over her bad decisions in terms of employment opportunities when she chanced to glance at the cross-dresser and nearly lost her professional cool. The guy had just stuck the spoon into his mouth, obviously imitating his partner in crime, and he looked like he had been slapped on a rump by a munchkin riding a motorized unicycle! She put a hand to her mouth to help stifle the laughter, but her shoulders still shook with the silent mirth.

Seeing the girl's reaction, Columbia turned slightly to look at Frankie, and her face flushed with embarrassment.

"Oh, Frankie, I'm so sorry!" she cried. "I should'a warned you, ice cream's cold!"

"Like ice," the girl agreed sarcastically, quickly shutting up when Frank's irritated gaze burned a hole through her forehead. The moment of uncharacteristic boldness had passed, and the girl—once more made humble—nervously offered "Frankie" a napkin. He took it, sniffing contemptuously, and dabbed at his lips before throwing it in the tiny waste basket on the counter marked Trash.

He glared a bit at Columbia, but—not wanting to set the girl off again—he simply sniffed, "Indeed, you should have."

"Wait a minute," the ice cream girl said from behind the safety of her glass counter. "You mean he's never had ice cream before?"

"Nope!" Columbia replied cheerfully, and went right back on reading the menu.

The girl gawked for a moment at Frank, who turned and smirked back, feeling playful. Her cheeks went from a their healthy pink to a very sudden flash of burning red, which only deepened as she broke eyes contact and bit her lip again, fidgeting with her ponytail once more. Her hands nervously straightened her apron and her eyes reluctantly left the comfort of the "Rainbow Glitter" vat—the sparkly colors were a joy for her to behold—on a determined mission to find Columbia…_and only Columbia_.

"If he's never had ice cream before," she stammered, speaking as if he was staring at her, "then maybe you should consider a simple flavor in a simple cone…you know, so that if he likes it, he can stock up on it."

Columbia's face brightened immeasurably at the suggestion. "Hey, that's a good idea! In that case, we'll have a double-scoop of chocolate in a plain waffle-cone bowl!"

The girl set to work and they were out the door and on the breezy patio of _Fro-Zen_ in not time, having been rushed out of the shop by the timid—and now very embarrassed—young girl.

Columbia sighed happily as she slipped into the chair beside Frankie, snuggling close to him and setting the napkin-covered waffle-bowl gently down on the table. Frankie got comfortable, letting the girl scoot in and get even closer. She was warm, and it felt good to have her under his arm once more. He tilted his head up absently, staring into the stars as they twinkled down from the heavens. Transsexual, Transylvania was up there, somewhere. Riff could tell which quadrant, and his sister could tell you the exact star. Those two ere much more eager to return than Frank was: Life on Earth was good, and considerably more interesting than on Transylvanian.

Lost in thought, he hadn't noticed the groupie's hand as it snaked out and grabbed a neon pink spoon, shoveling the rich brown ice cream onto it and lifting it in the air.

"Open wide, Frankie," she said in a flirty taunt, shoving the spoon mercilessly in when the doctor complied. He spluttered, chocolate drippings dribbling down onto his new corset, and Columbia squealed with laughter.

"Oh, you think that's funny, do you?" But her mirth was contagious after being so long without her, and Frank couldn't help the mischief on his mind. "Well, how do you like _this?" _And, scooping the ice cream up with his bare fingers, he dabbed it onto her nose, and wherever else his wandering digits could reach. She shrieked with laughter, her arms up to defend her against the chocolaty attack, waiting until the man had wiped his finger on a napkin to return fire.

"HAH!" she shouted triumphantly, fairly flinging herself into his lap as she began to tickle him. For the next half an hour, the two fought, stopping only occasionally to enjoy the chilly treat in its more traditional context. It was, in all honesty, the best date of Columbia's life, and she made sure to say as much when the two found themselves alone in Frank's pickup truck.

"The sentiment's mutual," he said with an upward twist of his lips, glad to have the bundle of energy back in his life. They rode in a comfortable silence for a while, now entirely out of town as they turned down the narrow, winding path in the woods that eventually led to the castle. Columbia was hit by a sudden, insane urge to ask Frankie a question, and—never being one to resist her urges, especially those of the insane variety—she turned toward him in her seat and let loose.

"Frankie?"

"Hmmm?"

"Why do ya' have a pickup truck instead of, ya' know, a sport's car or something?"

There was a thoughtful pause, and he turned the truck down the castle's gated path before he answered.

"I don't know, pet."


	7. It's A Cycle

_A/N: Final chapter, dawwwww! :( Tell me, kind readers, should I continue "Chow Down" as a series? I have a couple of other food-themed stories in mind (stupid plotbunnies!), but I'd really love some feedback first! Thanks for sticking with it, folks, and I hope you've enjoyed it!  
>PS: Yes, Riff and Genta are doing <strong>exactly<strong> what you think you're doing. What can I say, some things are best left canon!_

_**Chow Down!: Leave Room For Dessert!**_

Riff Raff and Magenta had just finished up in the girls' bedroom when they heard the car door slam.

"Sounds like the Master is home," Riff Raff groaned, brushing the wild red hair from the face of his beautiful sister.

There was a despairing cry of "Oh, Frankie, how could ya'?" and the resounding echo of a slap.

"Sounds like he's pissed," she corrected, her heavy accent unnoticed by her adoring brother. The front door crashed open, and the annoying sound of taps storming angrily up the stairs filled the castle.

"She's pissed," Magenta amended, pushing herself up on one elbow. The door closed, as was evidenced by the finality of the click as the lock was turned back into place, and she looked at her brother questioningly. He looked back, face carefully blanked, and she sighed.

"Fine zen, I'll take care of her. Hand me my shirt."

With a speed they had developed over years of sneaking behind their Master's back, the siblings dressed and went their separate ways: Riff Raff, to calm his Master down, and Magenta to comfort the girl. She was curled up in a ball on the bed of the pink guest room, crying into her hands and covered in chocolate stains.

"What did zat idiot do zis time?"

"Well," Frank replied, rubbing his reddening cheek, "she asked me a question, so I thought I could ask her one."

"And she slapped you for asking?"

"Yes."

"What did you ask?" Riff Raff inquired, alert and suspicious.

"I asked her why it was she ever slept with that _dreadful_ Eddie."

Magenta rolled her eyes, hand moving in soothing circles on the girl's back as she continued to sob and hiccup and moan like the pathetic little Earthling she was.

"Idiot."


End file.
